The Youngest Winchester
by TheLastWinchesterStanding
Summary: Harry James Potter had thought, given the current circumstances, that going to America to track down his biological father was a fantastic idea. Unfortunately, like most of Harry's plans, there had been very little planning and far too much impulsiveness. Had he known what sort of monsters lurked in America, he would've stayed in England.
1. A wizard, a vamp and two hunters

Harry James Potter had thought, given the current circumstances, that going to America to track down his potential father was a fantastic idea. Unfortunately, like most of Harry's plans, there had been very little planning and far too much impulsiveness.

He'd thought initially that the hard part would be in getting out of England and into America undetected. With a target scarred onto his forehead, Harry Potter had been terrified of being caught. So he'd spent most of his energy carefully working out his escape, leaving the little details of what he'd do once he had arrived in the US for later thought. Surely, Harry had thought, anywhere had to be safer than England. What with all of Voldemort's forces hunting him and the light side eager to throw him forward.

How wrong he'd been.

Harry had never known what kind of dangerous creatures lurked in the states. If he had, he might well have taken his chances in Privet Drive. As it was, on the warm evening of the third week of June, Harry Potter was, once again, running for his life.

The almost sixteen year old panted desperately for breath as he threw himself around the corner of a street. He didn't know exactly what it was that was chasing him, having never seen it's like before. But Harry did know that he certainly didn't want to be caught.

"Come, come, little Winchester." The beast crowed into the air. "Let me taste your daddy's blood." The thing practically cooed as it sauntered after the panicking teen.

That James Potter was not his biological father had come as a shock to the teen. He'd left England in search of a man by the name of John Winchester, a man that was supposedly his real father. He didn't know what sort of man his biological father was, but Harry was beginning to think he'd inherited his bad luck from the man. Harry had arrived in Kansas, the last known address he could dig up on his father, and started asking after the man. He'd barely been there a week when Harry had suddenly started being pursued by a creature who apparently could smell his real father's blood in his veins. What John Winchester had done to piss this creature off was another question in itself. Harry swore if he survived the night, he'd do the smart thing and get on a plane heading straight back to England.

Harry stumbled into a parked car, bouncing off the side of it and sending himself sprawling along the gravel. A growl from behind him was all the warning Harry got. His eyes widened and he threw himself into a sideways roll. The creature landed in a crouch in the spot Harry had occupied seconds before. In the dim glow of the street light above, Harry could just about make out horrid jagged teeth procuring from the things mouth.

Letting out another gasp, Harry scrambled back to his feet. He scraped his palms along the asphalt in the process but Harry paid the small pain no heed as he ran as fast as his exhausted legs would take him.

For four nights, Harry had been hunted. His only respite was during the day when he could rest and try to put as much distance between himself and whatever was chasing him as possible. But the thing kept on hunting him. Harry had even crossed state lines in an attempt to get away but no matter where he ran the beast followed close behind. Tonight was no different. Only this time Harry thought he may well have to blow his attempt to remain under the radar and defend himself with magic.

The MACUSA would know instantly he was there, as would the British Ministry given that Harry was still under age. But it was better than dying in the street- torn to shreds by the creature so desperate to taste his blood.

Harry's legs pumped harder and harder but no matter how far he ran he could still hear the tell-tale noises of his pursuer. For not the first time, Harry cursed his decision to ever come to this wretched place.

"Leave me alone!" Harry shouted over his shoulder in between his rasping breaths. He didn't expect to be listened to considering none of the other threats or pleas he'd said over the last few nights had had an effect. It was this distraction that cost him dearly. Harry didn't turn back around in time to notice the pothole in the road. His foot slipped inside even as his momentum carried the teen forward. From his ankle, Harry heard a dull popping noise.

He could do nothing to hide his cry of pain. Adrenaline leant Harry the strength to push himself back up but he could barely put any weight on the damaged joint. He hobbled as fast as he could down the street but knew his attempts would be in vain. Harry ducked into the next dark alley and threw himself behind a dumpster. He tried to quieten his breathing but his chest was aching with the effort. His ankle throbbed along with his pulse and made Harry close his eyes to stave off the pained noise building in the back of his throat.

The sound of the creature coming to a stop at the front of the alley had Harry stiffening.

"I can _smell_ you, little Winchester." The thing purred as it came creeping into the alley.

Harry desperately tried to make his legs move. He tried to push himself up and away from the wall to begin their game of cat and mouse once more but he had no energy left in him. After four nights of running for his life, Harry Potter was both sore and spent. He could do no more than sit back against the wall and listen as the creature stalked closer. Despite himself, Harry could feel angry tears burning the back of his closed eyelids.

How could this be how it ended for him?

After all the hardships and impossible things he'd endured over the years, how could this be the end of the _great_ Harry Potter?

"Oh, I bet your blood will be _sweet_. Sweet and young, and filled with the strength of your daddy." The creature hissed from the gloom.

A flare of stubbornness came alive in Harry. No, this would not be how he died, he decided. He scrambled for his wand and held it in his lightly trembling hand. His ears straining, Harry could make out the creatures unhurried footsteps. Clearly the thing knew its prey had no more energy left to run. Harry would wait for it to come within range and then he'd attack.

Harry's straining ears picked up on the sudden sound of two more sets of footsteps thundering their way into the opposite end of the alley. He held his breath even as he heard the creature take pause.

"Oooh," It purred. "Now this is a real treat. All of the Winchester boys in one place." The creature said, and Harry could practically hear the smile in its voice.

"Yeah? Bite me, ugly." A gravelly, male voice sneered back in return.

"Oh with pleasure." The creature declared. And with that, Harry could hear it charging toward the other end of the alley. The sound of scuffling, snarling and cussing came from the other end of the alley.

Harry forced his unco-operating limbs forward so he could peer out from his hiding spot. In the darkness he could barely make out the sight of three individual's fighting. One of them was clearly the creature that had been hunting Harry as he could see its sharp teeth. The other two were unknown to him. Whoever they were they seemed to be doing a fair job of working together to restrain the creature.

A flash of a blade held above one of the two unknown's heads. And with a sick popping noise, the creatures head rolled from its shoulders to land with a squelch on the alley floor.

Relief and revulsion warred inside Harry as he collapsed back against the wall. A sob like noise rose from his throat at finally seeing the thing dead. Harry was so relieved to finally be free that he didn't even hear the two men approaching him until suddenly a bright torch light was being shinned on him, blinding him in its intensity.

Harry flinched back against the wall even as he gritted his teeth, ready to throw himself forward.

"Woah there!" A soft voice said. And the torch light was moved slightly downward so that it still illuminated Harry but no longer blinded him. "We're not going to hurt you."

"You hurt, kid?" The same gruff voice as before demanded.

Harry found himself shaking his head as he tried to make out any details from the mostly obscured men. Being behind the only source of light in the alley made it hard for Harry to distinguish anything more than their silhouettes.

"Alright. Come on, let's get you out of there." The kinder of the two voices said, before a hand was thrust into Harry's line of sight. Hesitating only a moment, Harry accepted the hand and let its owner pull him to his feet. A small hiss of pain escaped Harry as he inadvertently put pressure on his ankle. He immediately lifted the joint from the floor and stood balancing on only one foot.

"Who are you?" Harry demanded. He wouldn't be going anywhere with these two men, gratitude for killing that thing aside, he didn't know them.

"My name's Sam," The softer voice told him. "And this is my brother, Dean."

"You're British?" The gruffer voice, presumably Dean, asked.

"Yeah." Harry confirmed with a nod.

"Where're your parents kid?" Dean demanded. Harry shrugged and took a hesitant, hobbled, step forward.

"You killed it?" Harry asked, his attention returning back to the headless corpse now lying at the mouth of an alley.

"Yeah. We should probably get out of here before someone stumbles past." Sam said. He made a movement toward Harry, and the teen jerked backwards from him. Harry was feeling understandably jumpy after the last few days. Hell, after the last few years. "We're not going to hurt you." Sam repeated gently.

He held his arm out toward Harry and left it hanging between them, leaving it up to Harry to close the final distance between them. After a moment, Harry accepted the man's help. Sam helped Harry hobble out of the alley with only the occasional wince as his ankle was jostled.

Harry let them lead him to their still running car, and boldly allowed himself to be eased into the backseat with no protest. Now that the most immediate danger had passed, Harry could feel his eyelids become heavy. Having to be constantly on the run all night, and trying to put as much distance as he could between himself and the creature during the day had left Harry with little time to sleep over the last few days. As it was, exhaustion pulled on his mind.

Even with two unknown, potentially dangerous, men, Harry could not stop himself from sinking into the blackness of unconsciousness.

He was asleep before either of the two men had climbed into the front seat.


	2. Always just fine, thanks

**A/N: A somewhat short chapter so I decided to post it early. Don't expect the next for a few days at least. I need to pace these things so I don't fall behind after all :)**

 **Warning : Some mild swearing in this one.**

* * *

When Harry next awoke, he was lying on his side on a rather lumpy bed. Rolling over, he groped blindly for his glasses. Only to pause as a rather blurry hand held them out to him.

"Here," A gruff voice said. In the time it took for Harry to take the offered spectacles and slip them onto his face, the events from the previous night had flooded back to him. Harry jerked upwards in the bed, his eyes roving wildly around the room.

A man of average height with closely cropped hair stood not far from his bedside, watching him curiously. He wore an open flannel shirt over a t-shirt and jeans, with heavy looking boots, and some kind of necklace around his neck. The other man in the room was much taller even while sitting at the small dining room table of what Harry was beginning to think must be a motel room. The man's hair was longer and he sported a more concerned expression than his brother. He wore a simple grey t-shirt over jeans.

"Er, thanks." Harry said as a way to break the silence that had fallen over them.

"How are you feeling?" The longer haired man spoke. Harry had been unable to recognise any discernible characteristics last night, what with the dark alley and his own exhaustion, but he recognised the man's voice as belonging to Sam.

"Fine." Harry lied. In truth, his head was thumping something awful, his ankle throbbed and his whole body gave off a faint ache.

"Right." Dean agreed with a roll of his eyes and a light smirk. "What's your name, kid?"

"Harry." Harry told them simply. He figured it was probably best to not mention his last name, just in case they recognised him. "How'd you know where to find me?" Harry asked the two.

"We were passing through and we heard word that there was a vamp hunting someone in the area, so we drove around last night until we caught sight of you both in the alley." Dean told him as he moved to lounge on the bed next to Harry's.

Harry remained unmoving for several seconds as his mind processed this.

"What's a vamp?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"A vampire." Sam expanded.

"You know, the ugly sonofa bitch that was chasing you." Dean helpfully added. "What'd you do to piss it off so much, anyway?" He asked, head tilting slightly. Harry blinked. So it had been a vampire hunting him? Harry had seen one or two depictions of vampires in his Defence Against the Dark Arts textbooks, but none of them had looked like the beast that had been chasing him.

"Er, I didn't really do anything." Harry shrugged. "I think- I think it was chasing me because of my dad." Harry added at their somewhat disbelieving looks. He supposed having a vampire chase you over state lines and for days on end wasn't exactly a normal occurrence. At least, he hoped it wasn't.

"Your dad?" Sam repeated with a frown. "Is he a hunter?" The tall man asked.

"What's a hunter?" Harry asked with a frown. Both men looked to one another before turning back to him.

"Hunters are the people that stop supernatural things, like vampires, from hurting innocent civilians, like you." Sam explained patiently.

"So you're hunters?" Harry looked between the two men unsurely. He'd thought hunters were people that went after deer and rabbits, that sort of thing.

"Yep. Kind of a family business." Dean added with a not so happy smirk. "So your dad?" Dean pressed.

"I don't know." Harry shrugged. He turned his eyes down to the quilt covering his legs, picking at a loose thread on it rather than look to the two men. "I've never met him." Harry revealed.

"Oh." Dean muttered.

"Alright, well you should be safe now that we've put the vampire down." Sam said. He flashed Harry a kind smile when the teen finally brought his eyes up to look at him. "We can drop you back to your family, if you like?" Sam offered.

Harry squirmed somewhat uncomfortably. "That's alright. I wouldn't want to be a bother." Harry hedged uneasily. He appreciated what these two had done for him. But Harry needed to decide whether he wanted to return to Kansas and continue his mostly fruitless searching for a man he'd come to suspect had moved from the area years prior, or return to the brewing war in England.

"It's no bother." Sam assured him earnestly.

Harry decided that was his cue to leave. He pulled the quilt back and threw his legs over the side of the bed. Standing on his ankle was more than a little painful but Harry stubbornly refused to let it stop him. Looking around he spotted his filth stained backpack at the side of the bed and quickly scooped it up. "I appreciate what you guys did, really I do. But I'm fine." Harry assured them with a faint smile.

He didn't look up to see Sam and Dean exchange a frown with one another.

"Listen kid, we'd feel a whole lot better if we could at least drop you off." Dean told him. There was stubborn hint to the man's words that Harry recognised.

"You've done enough, really." Harry promised, equally as stubborn. He hobbled his way to the motel door, frowning only slightly at the salt line that lay in front of it. "I should be going. Thanks again." Harry told them before he was hurrying through the door.

Neither of the two brothers tried to stop him, although Harry felt at least one of their gazes on his back as he hobbled his way away from the motel.

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 **A/N: Hope you guys liked it! And don't worry, this isn't the last time Harry will meet the boys!**  
 **Let me know what you thought with a review :)**


	3. Diner Blues

In the end, Harry had headed toward a cosy looking diner not too far from the motel. His ankle was throbbing and the brief burst of energy he'd had upon waking up had flagged. Deciding he'd be better off getting some food before deciding his next move, Harry pulled himself into one of the booths furthest in the back. He positioned himself with his back to the wall and with perfect view of the entrance.

A bubbly waitress was quick to come over and greet him.

"Hi, my name is Miranda and I'll be your waitress this afternoon." She introduced herself. And Harry pretended not to notice the frown and contemplative look she threw him as she handed him a menu. He knew he looked more than a little worse for wear, and could only imagine what he smelt like after days of not bathing, not to mention hiding behind a dumpster last night.

"Need a few minutes to decide?" Miranda asked, brining Harry's wandering thoughts back to the menu in his hands.

"Er, I'll just get the bacon and eggs with a side of toast. And a coffee." Harry rattled off quickly. He waited for her to take his order but she remained standing there. "Is there something wrong?" Harry asked, looking up.

"Listen, kid, I don't mean to be rude, but this is a paying establishment. You do have money, don't you?" She asked as kindly as she could. Harry flushed red to the root of his hair as he dug in his filthy jeans pocket for his wallet. He pulled it out and opened it enough to pull a handful of American notes out into the open. "Right." The waitress smiled, her bubbly personality bouncing back into place. "So, that was a bacon and egg, side of toast and a coffee." She recited.

Harry nodded and waited for her to move away before he let his head fall back against the wall with a muted thump. Without his permission, Harry's eyes fell to half lidded as his mind wandered. He was brought out of his daydream quite suddenly as the waitress returned with a mug which she proceeded to fill with coffee.

"Milk, sugar?" She asked. Harry mutely shook his head. He didn't bother to move from his slouched position other than to bring a scraped, dirty, hand up to hold the warm cup.

Harry's attention went to the front door as the bell rung signalling new customers. His heart sunk slightly at seeing none other than Sam and Dean come in. The two men seemed deep in conversation with one another and didn't seem to have noticed him. Harry sunk down in his booth and hoped the two men wouldn't notice him.

His hopes were dashed as the waitress came back.

"Bacon and eggs, and your side of toast. Anything else, hun?" She asked brightly, and oh so very loudly. Harry winced as he glanced toward Sam and Dean, only to see the two men looking back at him.

"No. Thank you." Harry said with a sigh. He hunched over his breakfast as he began eating. He couldn't say he was at all surprised when seconds later the two men slid into the booth opposite him.

The three of them sat in silence as Harry ate his breakfast. The two men had their own breakfasts ordered and delivered to them before anyone spoke.

"Your parents alive, kid?" Dean asked rather abruptly. Harry nearly choked on the toast he'd been chewing. He hunched his shoulders further and offered no reply. "That a no then?"

"You're clearly British by the sound of your accent." Sam said when Harry still did not speak or look up at the two of them.

At this Harry looked warily up at the two men. "So?" He asked carefully.

"So, what are you doing in the States?" Dean asked, eyebrow raised.

Harry shrugged. He figured telling them the truth about this at least couldn't hurt much, right?

"I'm looking for my dad." Harry told them. He didn't appreciate how timid his voice came out at the admission.

"And he's in the states?" Sam asked curiously.

"Apparently." Harry sighed. He met their eyes for the first time since the conversation first started. "Like I said before, I appreciate what you guys did for me, but I'm not looking for anyone's help. I can take care of myself." Harry told them, his chin jutting out stubbornly.

"Alright." Sam agreed while Dean didn't even have the decency to try hide his snort of amusement. "Look, if that vamp was after you because of your dad, odds are he's a hunter. If you tell us his name we might be able to help you track him down." Sam offered.

Harry eyed them both. "Why are you so insistent on helping me?" Harry asked cautiously.

Dean rolled his eyes. "You're what? Fourteen?" Dean asked, eyeing him up and down.

"I'm nearly sixteen!" Harry protested, crossing his arms as he glared at the shorter of the two brothers.

Dean waved his hand as if dismissing Harry's words. "So you're fifteen." He said. "What kind of people would we be if we let a fifteen year old go wandering around the country without at least making sure he got some place safe?" Dean asked, eyebrow arched.

"You'd be the kind that didn't stick their noses in other people's business." Harry bit back somewhat harshly. He'd always hated being looked down on as a child. Sirius had been the only adult to treat Harry like he wasn't a complete idiot. A pang of grief and sadness sucker punched Harry so hard in the stomach he had to look down lest Sam and Dean see the tears that had suddenly sprung to his eyes.

He had no way of knowing that both brothers had already seen the look on his face, and were already exchanging concerned, and somewhat baffled, looks.

"Well, you see, that's just not us." Dean joked lightly. "If there's one word that describes Sammy and me, it's nosy." Dean continued. He was rewarded for his efforts as Harry let out a snort.

"Fine." Harry sighed. He looked up to meet Sam and Dean's gaze. "I'm looking for a guy called John. John Winchester." Harry said. He noticed the odd way both Sam and Dean had stiffened in his seat. "His last known address is in Kansas, but I couldn't find anyone who knew where to find him. Do you know him?" Harry asked. He eyed both brothers carefully, wondering at the strange reaction they gave to the name.

"Is this some kind of joke?" Dean hissed. Harry turned to him, surprised at the sudden hostility.

"Dean." Sam said warningly.

"No, Sam." Dean bit out sharply. His glare never left Harry.

"I- No. No of course it isn't!" Harry protested. He looked from one brother to the other in confusion. "I don't-, Do you know him?" Harry asked somewhat eagerly. From the expressions on both their faces he could only assume they did.

"Know him? We're his sons!" Dean spat.

Harry found himself flinching back. His eyes were wide as he stared at Dean. Slowly he turned his attention from Dean's glare to Sam's considering gaze.

"You're-," Harry swallowed uncomfortably. In all honesty, Harry hadn't actually considered the possibility of siblings. He'd hoped to find John Winchester, but even then Harry still wasn't sure what he was going to say to the man. Nor was he sure exactly what he wanted from him.

"Dean, calm down." Sam ordered his brother, keeping his voice low.

Harry turned to see Dean visibly glowering and mashing his teeth together.

"I'm sorry," Harry found himself saying to Dean. Dean… _his big brother_. Wasn't that a thought?

"Sorry? Sorry for what?" Dean snarled. His face was scrunched in confusion but it lessened the glower on his face very little.

"I-I didn't know. I didn't know you were-," Harry trailed off. He turned his eyes down to where his fingers tapped nervously on the table top. "I didn't know he had sons." Harry forced himself to say it aloud.

"Who are you?" Dean demanded, his voice sounding only slightly less hostile. Despite this, Harry still couldn't remove his gaze from where it had fallen on the table top.

"I already told you. My name's Harry, Harry Potter."

Sam sighed from his seat beside his brother. "Alright, well, this makes helping you find your father a lot harder." Sam said.

Harry's head jerked up to look at Sam. "What? Why?" He asked quickly.

"We don't know where he is. We've been looking for him." Sam revealed with a shrug. Dean glowered at Sam before turning back to examine Harry. Only now did both the older Winchester boys notice just how much Harry looked like their father.

"Who's your mother?" Dean demanded.

Harry crossed his arms and stared mulishly at Dean. He understood the older man was probably in shock, it wasn't every day you found out you had another brother, after all. But Harry _and_ Sam had been faced with the same surprise and neither of them felt the need to act so rude.

"Her name was Lily. Lily Potter _nee_ Evans." Harry told him.

"Was?" Sam questioned carefully.

Harry's gaze flickered away. He looked out the window at the carpark, noticing for the first time a sleek black muscle car parked not far from the entrance. Harry's eyes were inexplicably drawn to a rather battered looking, blue pick-up truck parked across the road from the diner.

"She died." Harry told them.

"Oh. I'm sorry." Sam said softly.

Harry shrugged without looking at them. "She died when I was very young. I- I don't really remember her." Harry mostly lied. It was true, he didn't really remember his mother. Harry hardly counted the last memories he had of her.

"Right," Sam sighed. And Harry could almost feel the taller brother looking from him to Dean and back again. "We should probably head back to the motel and figure this out." Sam said with another heavy sigh.

"What is there to figure out? We don't know where Dad is." Dean bit out. "We can't exactly take the kid with us, not with the job." And Harry could just tell Dean was shrugging his shoulders in a 'what-can-you-do' way. Clearly Dean's mind was made up. He wanted nothing to do with Harry.

"Dean!" Sam hissed.

Harry kept his eyes firmly locked on the outside world. He told himself he didn't care what these men thought. Brothers or not. They didn't know him and he didn't know them. So what should it matter?

Still, he couldn't seem to squash the hurt building up in his chest. What was so wrong with him? Why was it none of his relatives seemed to like him? Was he really so bad?

He supposed it didn't matter if he came to the states or stayed in England; if he met his mother's family or his father's; he was still nothing more than a freak. Something to be ignored or shoved in the cupboard under the stairs.

Harry straightened and dug his wallet from his pocket. He threw a few bills on the table, not even bothering to check how much was there but knowing it'd more than cover his breakfast. Standing to his feet, Harry grabbed his backpack.

"Harry, wait!" Sam pleaded, his hands raised.

Harry didn't turn to look at him. Instead he stared straight ahead. "Dean's right, you can't just take me with you. I don't know what I expected, really. This whole thing was a mistake." Harry forced the words past his tight jaw. Without another word he limped his way out of the diner.

He wasn't even surprised when neither Winchester brother moved to stop him.


	4. A Bus Going Anywhere

**A/N:** **It's a little late, sorry about that.**  
 **I've been blown away with the response to this story so far. Thank you to everyone who's reviewed, favourited or followed. Seriously, thank you guys so much.**

 **I hope you enjoy this next one**

Harry wandered around the town rather aimlessly. He wasn't even sure which town he'd ended up in after his attempts to lose the vampire hunting him. It took him a few hours after leaving the diner to realise he was in the state of Illinois. It didn't take him long after that to find his way to a bus terminal.

Harry looked between the destinations and wondered for a moment whether he'd be better off getting on an airport shuttle to return to England, or to get on a random bus and travel America. Clearly there was no point in pursuing John Winchester when even his _real_ sons couldn't find him. Harry had already discovered that America was home to creatures he had never encountered before. But returning home meant going back to Privet Drive. Back to constant chores and the threat of both his uncle's violence and Voldemort.

Laid out like that, Harry decided he'd much rather take his chances with American monsters. Harry found a bus leaving for Chicago and bought himself a ticket. He had a mere half hour wait so he settled himself into one of the relatively comfortable chairs in the mostly empty bus terminal, to wait.

He wasn't alone for long.

"Travelling alone, young man?" An elderly woman asked as she settled herself next to him.

Harry looked up into the wrinkled yet kind looking face of a woman in her late 70's at least. Her hair was in white curls atop her head and her sparkling brown eyes were hidden by horn-rimmed spectacles.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, offering the woman a tight smile.

"You look like you've had a rough time of it, dear." The old woman commented as she eyed him up and down. Harry couldn't even hold the light nose wrinkle she gave against her. He knew he smelt less than fresh.

"You could say that." Harry muttered. He turned his attention down to his stained, second hand sneakers.

"On your way home?" She asked him. Harry shook his head. He was surprised when she patted his shoulder gently. "No. I didn't think you were. You're a long way from home, aren't you, Mr Potter?" She said even as her hold on his shoulder turned harsh and vicious.

Harry whipped his head up to stare at the woman. Her once brown eyes were a vivid and complete black.

"I- What?" Harry stuttered as he tried to pull himself back. His attempts becoming more desperate as her hold remained unwavering.

"I heard your conversation with the Winchesters." She tutted, her lips turning up into a cruel smile. "It's probably for the best that they wanted nothing to do with you. If they knew what you are they'd probably try to kill you." She commented.

"Who the _bloody_ _hell_ are you?" Harry demanded. He was sent sprawling as the woman let go of his shoulder quite abruptly. Harry rolled over onto his back and scrambled until he was on his hands. "What are you?" Harry gasped. He scrambled backwards as the old woman stood to her feet.

"Oh honey," She crooned at him. "You took quite a spill. Let me help you up." Her black eyes gleamed as she suddenly thrust her hand out and upward.

Harry let out a yell as he was suddenly picked up off the floor and thrown harshly against a pillar several feet away. A pressing force kept him dangling pressed against the pillar several meters from the floor. It pinned him so he could barely draw in breath let alone try reaching for his wand. Harry was helpless as the old woman began to approach, her movement far too fluid for someone of her supposed age.

"I know a man who'd pay quite a pretty penny for your head, Mr Potter." The old woman told him. She stopped mere centimetres from Harry. Raising the hand not currently holding him against the pillar, she stroked a gnarled finger down his jaw line. "And I know even more that would pay handsomely for any of the Winchester spawn." She practically purred.

Harry squirmed trying to escape or at least flinch backwards.

"Get off me!" He growled somewhat breathlessly.

A noise like a thunder clap sounded close by and suddenly the old woman was blasted away from him.

Harry fell to the floor, gasping for air. He wasn't there long before a strong hand was grabbing him by the scruff of his neck and forcing him up. A man took a hold of the top of his arm and urged him quickly forward, ignoring Harry's hissed moans of pain as he was forced to limp on his injured ankle.

"Come on," A gruff voice ordered. Harry looked up into the face of his rescuer. All he could see of the man's profile was a strong, stubble covered jaw and brown hair. The man wore a long leather jacket over his jeans, one which looked eerily like the one Dean had worn in the diner. In the hand not pulling Harry along, the man held a shot gun with its barrel cut off.

"Who-?" Harry began to ask.

"Not now." The man cut him off. They barely made it half-way across the terminal when Harry felt that familiar pressure sending him flying forward. He cringed at the fast approaching wall but could do nothing to lessen the impact. Harry let out a low groan as he was slammed face first into the wall.

"Well, well," The old woman's voice came from somewhere behind him. "If it isn't John Winchester."

Harry's eyes went wide and he tried desperately to struggle against the force that was still holding him squashed against the wall. It was lesser than it had been before but Harry still couldn't wiggle free.

"Let the kid go." The same gruff voice ordered. The voice of his father, Harry realised.

"Oh, but Johnny boy. Think how much the two of you would be worth together?" The old woman said and Harry could practically hear the excitement in her voice.

"You have me. You don't need the boy." John Winchester argued. As the two of them went back and forth, the force holding Harry lessened. He continued to struggle until finally he was able to free himself. The woman didn't seem to notice his freedom as she was too caught up in her taunting of John Winchester. The two of them were further inside the terminal. It seemed Harry had been thrown forward while John had been thrown sideways.

Harry looked around wildly, wondering what he could possibly do. His eye landed on the shot gun lying innocently half way between where Harry stood and where the woman was. Harry moved as silently as he could toward the weapon, his eyes flickering from the gun to the old woman over and over.

Just as he was about to reach the weapon, Harry noticed the old woman was making to turn toward him. With nothing left to lose, the teen sprinted forward the last few steps and dove for the weapon. He rolled and came up on his knee, shotgun held pointed at the woman. The old woman's coal black eyes widened. Harry didn't hesitate in pulling the trigger. He wasn't expecting the recoil and very nearly threw his shoulder out. Still, his mark was true and the old woman was once again sent flying.

John landed back on his feet. His eyes were wide as he looked to Harry. And then he was hurrying toward the teen. And Harry was getting back to his feet, offering the shot gun to the man as he approached. This time, John didn't have to propel Harry forward as the teen was already moving quickly to the exit. John's warm hand still closed around his arm as they made a run for it.

 **A/N:** **Let me know what you thought with a review!**

 **Til next time!**


	5. Failure to Communicate

**A/N:** **Thank you all! Seriously, your reviews/follows/favs have been amazing. I really appreciate them all!**

Harry was led to a familiar beat up blue truck. One he'd spied only earlier that morning from the diner. Despite the revelation, Harry didn't hesitate in climbing into the cabin. He didn't know where John Winchester planned to take him, but he knew it had to be better than staying here with the crazed black eyed old woman.

Neither of them spoke until John had them tearing down the road, tyres squealing.

Harry was the first to break the silence. "What was she?" He asked, turning to look out the back window at the slowly fading bus terminal.

"Demon." John Winchester told him bluntly.

"Demon?" Harry repeated. He turned back in his seat to stare at John. The older man's face was lined with hardship. His brown hair and the stubble on his face were streaked with patches of white. His lips were pursed with the corners flickering down into a frown every now and then.

He didn't answer Harry's question. Instead the older man flickered his eyes over to Harry and looked him up and down. "You alright?" He asked gruffly.

"Fine," Harry lied. His whole body felt tight and uncomfortably warm, like he was turning into one giant bruise. His ankle was throbbing worse than ever before.

"Right." John agreed disbelievingly. "I'm John. John Winchester." He introduced himself.

"I know." Harry said. "I'm Harry Potter."

"I know." John mimicked with a small smile tugging at his lips. John's eyes flickered back over to him a moment later. "Your Lily's boy?" John asked.

Harry nodded his head mutely.

"You have her eyes." John spoke quietly into the space between them.

"Yeah." Harry gulped uncomfortably. "How did you find me?" He asked instead of asking the question he really wanted to know. Did John know he was Harry's father? Did he know Harry had come looking for him?

"I got word from an old friend that there was a kid asking around about me in Kansas." John told him hesitantly. "And then the boys ran into you. I've been following you all day since the diner." John admitted. He glanced over at Harry. "What's in Chicago?" John asked.

Harry shrugged and turned to look out the window. "I just picked the next bus leaving." He could feel John's eyes on him again but Harry didn't turn around.

"I would've thought you'd have headed back to England after the way the boys treated you this morning." John commented.

And Harry shrunk down in his seat just slightly. "I thought I'd stick around. See more of America." Harry mumbled somewhat nervously. So John had seen something of the conversation between Harry and his sons that morning? Harry didn't know whether John agreed with Dean given the man hadn't intervened.

"Yeah?" John let out a sigh. Harry chanced a glance over at the man. John was rubbing at his brow looking tired and not the least bit stressed.

"Yeah." Harry agreed, turning his attention back to looking out the window. They drove in silence after that. Harry wasn't sure for how long but it had to be approaching nearly an hour later when John next spoke. His voice jolted Harry from the doze he was beginning to slip into.

"How'd she die?" John asked. He was staring straight ahead with his knuckles white on the steering wheel. "Your mom." John clarified when Harry didn't speak.

"She-," Harry swallowed uncomfortably. "She was murdered when I was one."

Harry heard John let out a sigh. "Who did it?" John asked tightly.

Harry turned his attention away from John to look out the windscreen. Darkness had fallen and only the headlights provided light on the stretch of road they were travelling.

"A man named Voldemort." Harry forced the hated name past his lips. "He killed my Dad- err, my _step-dad,_ first and then he came for me. She wouldn't stand aside so he- he killed her." Harry admitted.

"He came for you?" John asked and Harry could hear the confusion in the man's voice.

Harry swallowed and shook his head. This was one question Harry didn't want to talk about. Not when the prophecy was still so fresh in his memories. _'Either must die at the hands over the other… for neither can live while the other survives...'_ a haunting voice echoed through Harry's mind and made him shiver.

"I'm sorry." John said. And whether he was apologising for his mother's death or for the question, Harry didn't know. All the same, Harry swallowed and nodded his head in acceptance of the apology.

Silence fell on the two of them again and Harry half expected it to stretch just as long as it had before. But John surprised him when he spoke only a minute later.

"Why'd you come looking for me? Why now?" John asked. Harry felt his eyes flicker over to him.

Harry shrugged uneasily. "I only just found out that you existed. I thought, I always thought James Potter was my father." Harry explained softly.

"Oh." John murmured. "So, who's been looking after you all this time?" John asked casually. His attempt to switch them to a lighter, easier conversation was as painfully obvious as it was a painful failure.

"My Aunt and Uncle." Harry replied, his voice clipped.

"You, er, like it there? They're good people?" John asked.

Harry stiffened slightly. "Where are we going, anyway?" He asked. The attempt to change the conversation was more than a little on the nose but John allowed it all the same.

"I have a friend that lives in South Dakota." John explained. "He used to look after the boys when they were younger. You'll be safe there." John added.

"Oh." Harry said. He turned slightly in his seat so he could press his forehead against the cool glass of the passenger side window. The position had the added bonus of sheltering his expression from John's quick glances.

Harry couldn't stop the sting of pain in his chest. Here he was, once again, being placed somewhere like some unwanted burden. His eyes stung with the sharp prickle of tears but there was no way in hell Harry was about to let them fall. Instead he blinked them back.

"I'll call the boys when we arrive, have them meet us there. I'll talk to them and set 'em straight." John said into the oppressive silence. He glanced over at Harry when the teen offered no response. "Harry?" John called softly, his voice sounding somewhat worried.

"I'm tired." Harry murmured softly. He didn't move his head from its position.

"Oh okay." John agreed. The man sighed lightly. "You get some shut eye, then. We're still a few hours out yet."

Harry didn't respond. He just watched the darkness zipping past with eyes that were still stubbornly misty.

Despite himself, Harry did end up slipping into an uneasy sleep at some point during the drive. When he awoke next it was to the grey of early morning outside his window. Harry looked out the window and realised they were stationary at what looked like a petrol station. Sitting up, Harry felt something slip from his shoulders. His seeker reflexes had him reaching out and catching whatever it was before it could slip fully to the floor. It took Harry several long seconds until he realised what he was holding was John's long leather jacket. Apparently at some point in the night, John had covered Harry with it.

Harry looked up as the driver's side door was pulled open. John climbed into the cab offering Harry a tired smile. The man held two cups in his hands and a plastic bag. He held one of the cups out for Harry.

"Hope you like tea." John said as he handed it over. Harry took the cup and although he would have preferred a refreshing cup of coffee, he couldn't deny the tea was comforting.

John held out the plastic bag. After a hesitant moment, Harry took that as well.

"I didn't know what you liked, so I got a couple different things." John told him as he started up the engine again.

"Thanks." Harry murmured. He pawed through the selection of hot baked pastries, fruit and cereal bars with little interest. After only a few moments, Harry set the bag down onto the seat between them without having taken anything.

"Not hungry?" John asked. Harry shook his head in the negative. "Not much of a morning person, are you?" John commented lightly. To this Harry offered no response. "Right." John sighed.

Harry returned to gazing out the window as he sipped at his tea.

"So Harry, tell me something about yourself." John instructed idly after the silence between them had stretched for several kilometres.

"Like what?" Harry asked with a sigh. He barely glanced over at John before returning his attention back to the passing scenery.

"Er, I don't know. What kind of hobbies do you have?" John floundered after a moment.

Harry shrugged. He could hardly tell his father that his one true hobby was flying on his broomstick, now could he?

"Well, what about school?" John asked.

"I go to a boarding school in Scotland." Harry told him.

"Oh? That must be hard. Do you miss your aunt and uncle?" John wondered. The man was simply happy he'd finally gotten the boy to talk, even if his tone was flat and lifeless. John was sure he'd messed up at some point last night although what he'd said wrong, he didn't know.

Harry snorted humorously at that. "No." Harry said simply.

John flickered a look over at the boy but Harry was still staring stubbornly out the window. "What about friends then? You have any of those?" John asked.

Harry turned to face the older man. He stared at John for several disquieting seconds. "What do you care?" Harry demanded.

"Excuse me?" John flickered his gaze over at the teen beside him.

"If you're bored just turn the bloody radio on." Harry bit out at last. He turned back to face out the window. "Stop asking me questions. Stop… Stop pretending to care." He grumbled.

"I'm not-," John broke off to sigh uncomfortably. "I'm not pretending to care, Harry." He told the boy. "If this is about me not being there, I think it should be obvious I didn't know about you." John awkwardly said.

"I know that." Harry grunted. In truth, Harry was feeling oddly numb. He was so very tired of being the unwanted burden. It seemed Harry was cursed to watch all the relatives that loved and wanted him, die.

In that regard, maybe Harry should be pleased his father didn't seem to want him around. Maybe that meant the man might actually survive.

"Was it something I said, then?" John asked.

Harry let out a sigh. "How long until we reach your friends?" Harry asked instead of answering the man's question. He could feel John's eyes on the back of his head.

"Only another hour or two." John eventually answered, sounding resigned.


	6. Singer's Salvage Yard

**A/N:** **Thank you all very much for the comments and love! The response had truly been unbelievable!  
I want to apologize for this update taking so long, sadly real life keeps getting in the way.  
The next chapter I put up should be relatively short (sorry, that's just how the story goes), so in saying that I'll try to get it posted sometime this week :)**

* * *

Exactly one hour and forty three minutes of tense silence later, they were pulling up outside Singer's Salvage Yard. Harry leaned forward slightly to take in the rather dreary, faded blue house.

"Come on," John murmured as he stepped from the truck. Harry hesitated a moment before following after the older man.

The teen followed the older man up the front porch steps and stood patiently behind him as John rapped his knuckles on the front door.

"Who is it?" A gruff voice called from behind the wooden door.

"Bobby, it's me. John Winchester." John called. The older man took a step back as the front door came open. Harry peered at the man revealed. He had a beard that was streaked with grey and the hair Harry could see was equally greying. The man wore a baseball cap on his head and a flannel shirt open over a dirty grey t-shirt. His jeans were stained and he had heavy boots adorning his feet.

"What're ya' doin' here, Winchester?" Bobby asked sourly. His eyes went to Harry and they widened at seeing him. "Who's that?" He added.

"He's why I'm here. Can we come in?" John asked somewhat impatiently.

Bobby's eyes narrowed as he pulled the security screen open. He thrust a flask out toward John. "You know the rules." Bobby said.

With a sigh, John took a swig from the flask before moving as if to hand it back to Bobby.

"Kid too." Bobby ordered. With another impatient sigh, John turned and handed the flask to Harry. Harry looked from John to Bobby and back to the flask held in his hand.

"What is it?" He asked warily.

"It's just water." John said as he encouraged Harry to take a sip.

"Why do I need to drink it, then?" Harry demanded as he turned to face the two men. Harry had far too many people out to kill him to simply take something like this at face value.

"It's holy water. It'll tell me if you're a demon or not." Bobby told him gruffly. Harry stared wide eyed at the bearded man before looking to John.

"Like the lady at the bus station?" He asked. John nodded and gestured for Harry to take a sip. Harry scrunched his eyes closed before taking a quick sip from the flask. The water was stale but certainly not the worst Harry had ever had. He opened his eyes and looked to the flask in relief. Harry hobbled forward a step to hand the flask back to Bobby.

"Alright, come on in." Bobby allowed. He stepped back to allow them both inside. Harry limped inside rather nervously. His head swiveling around to take in the dusty, crowded house.

"You mind if the kid uses your shower while we talk?" John asked his friend. Harry turned back in time to see Bobby shrug his shoulders and nod.

"Let me show you to the bathroom." Bobby said as he gestured for Harry to follow after him. Harry hiked his backpack further onto his shoulder before hesitantly hobbling after the man. His wand was a comforting presence tucked into the waistband of his too large jeans. They stopped outside a door with chipped white paint. Bobby opened it and gestured inside. "Towels are in the cupboard. Use whatever soap you want." Bobby instructed, his voice a lot less fierce now that they were away from John.

"Thanks." Harry murmured as he offered the man a tight smile. Bobby nodded before leaving Harry alone.

The moment Bobby was gone, Harry closed the bathroom door and locked it. He moved himself to the toilet, closed the lid and sank down on it. For several minutes, Harry simply sat there.

So much had changed in his life in the last few days. It felt like he'd barely had a moment to breathe before he was once again on the move. Harry's gaze turned to the rather dinky looking shower. He could not resist the temptation for long. As quickly as his aching body would allow, Harry began to peel his filthy clothes off. Inch by inch, he revealed skin molted in bruises and scrapes. The hardest part came when he moved to remove his shoes. Any slight movement of his foot sent a hot wave of pain through Harry's entire leg. When his ankle was finally revealed, Harry gasped at the size of the swollen joint. The swollen skin all around the joint was painted in sickly shades of yellow and purple. Harry let out a whimper as he tried to gently move it.

Deciding to simply leave it be, Harry carefully and awkwardly climbed his way into the shower. It took a bit of fiddling with the controls but soon enough Harry was being pelted under the hot flow. He could barely stop himself from moaning as his tightly bound muscles and aching body slowly relaxed under the assault.

Twenty minutes later, a much refreshed Harry Potter emerged from the shower. He toweled himself off quickly before turning to hunt in his backpack for some clean clothes. Unfortunately, nearly all of his clothes were filthy. Before Harry could decide which of his belongings was the least filthy to wear, a knock sounded on the bathroom door.

"Harry, it's me." John's voice came from the other side.

Harry wrapped the towel tightly around his waist before hobbling awkwardly over to open the door for the man. John looked down at him, his mouth open to speak but whatever words the man had to say died on his tongue. After several seconds, John seemed to pull himself together. He offered Harry a pile of clothes.

"I brought you some clean clothes." John told him stiffly. "Once you've changed I want you to come see us in the kitchen. It's just to the right of the front door. Alright?" John instructed.

Harry nodded as he accepted the bundle of clothes. "Thanks." Harry said before closing the door. A few minutes later, clad in a soft black t-shirt that was several sizes too big and some warm track pants that were equally too large, Harry hobbled his way into the kitchen.

He was met with both Bobby and John talking intensely. They stopped at his arrival. John stood up and gestured that Harry should take his seat while Bobby began fiddling with some kind of kit laid out on his kitchen table. Harry limped his way to the offered chair and sat himself down gingerly.

"Right. First things first, let's see that foot of yours." Bobby instructed as he came to kneel in front of Harry.

"What?" Harry choked as he flinched back from the hands making to grasp him. Both Bobby and John paused to look at him.

"We're not gonna hurt you, kid." John soothed at once. "You're hurt and Bobby's going to help fix you up." John swallowed.

"Oh." Harry mumbled. This time when Bobby reached for him, Harry managed to suppress his flinch. His accomplishment was ruined when seconds later he jerked back, letting out a cry of pain as Bobby prodded at his ankle.

"Can you move it?" Bobby asked looking serious. Harry shrugged his shoulders and looked stubbornly away. "Looks like it could be broken. We'll have to wrap it and you'll need to stay off it for a while. Might need an x-ray." Bobby mumbled the last part to himself.

John frowned down at his youngest son, his arms crossed against his chest. "I asked you if you were hurt." John said unable to keep the reprimand from his voice.

Harry stiffened in response. His own arms came to fold across his chest as he stared mulishly at John. Unwittingly both father and son jutted their jaws out in the same stubborn manner, causing Bobby to let out a brief snort of laughter.

"And I said I was fine." Harry bit back. "I can look after myself." He added.

"Clearly," John agreed with a snort and a wide gesture to Harry's whole body.

Harry turned his head away and stared at the fridge rather than look at the older man.

"This is gonna hurt." Bobby warned seconds before he began tightly wrapping a bandage around the joint. Harry let out a hiss and went stiff in his seat but other than that offered no resistance. "How'd you manage this, anyhow?" Bobby asked as his hands deftly wrapped the bandage.

Harry shrugged. "I was running, didn't see a pothole in time." Harry told him simply.

Bobby paused as he turned to look up at Harry. "What were you running from?" Bobby asked, his eyebrows quirked.

"A vampire." Harry told him blandly.

Bobby snorted before returning his attention to the task at hand. Harry could swear he heard the bearded man muttering about the stupidity of Winchesters and them being 'damned fools'. The teen wasn't sure whether to be amused or offended at the other man's tirade.

"How'd you get away?" John asked curiously.

"Sam and Dean."

John hummed thoughtfully at his response. "I called the boys. They're on their way. Should be here sometime tonight, maybe early morning tomorrow." John told him. "Seems they were sticking around Illinois looking for you." He added.

Harry didn't respond to either statement. Instead he decided to focus on watching how Bobby wrapped his ankle. When finally the man was done he gently placed Harry's foot back on the ground and stood to his feet.

"Anything else we should know about?" Bobby asked as he quirked an eyebrow at the teen. Harry shook his head.

"No. My ankle was the worst of it." Harry told him. Only for John to let out a snort from his position leaning against the door frame.

"He's bruised just about from head to toe." John commented sourly. "Maybe give him a pain killer, Bobby?" John suggested briskly.

"I'm fine." Harry bit out even as Bobby turned to look through his kit. A moment later the bearded man emerged with a blister pack of pills.

"Here, take one of these and you'll feel a whole lot better." Bobby said as he popped one of the blisters to give Harry a small, round tablet. Harry looked from the pill being held in the man's hand and back to his face.

"I'm _fine_." Harry repeated slowly.

Bobby rolled his eyes even as John let out a huff.

"No need to be a hero, boy. Just take the damn meds." Bobby told him gruffly. After only a minute longer, Harry extended his hand out and accepted the tablet. John stepped further into the kitchen and returned moments later with a glass of water.

"Here," He said as he held the glass out to Harry.

Harry finished the glass after taking the tablet. He'd no sooner put the glass back on the table then John was speaking again.

"What's that on your hand?" The man asked, pointing to Harry's left hand. Harry looked down at the back of his hand only to see the fresh scar of his own writing.

"It's nothing." Harry muttered as he moved his hand under the table.

"It's not nothing. What is it?" John pressed, taking a step forward.

"John, give the boy some space, ya idjit." Bobby grumbled. "You hungry, kid?" Bobby asked frowning over at him.

Harry nodded his head, flashing Bobby a grateful smile. "I could eat." He said.

"You like cereal?" Bobby questioned as he pulled a box of Cornflakes from the cupboard. Harry nodded. "Good." Bobby grunted. The man deposited the box on the table before turning and rummaging a bowl and spoon from his cupboards. A moment later he moved and retrieved a fresh glass of water and a carton of milk, both of which he set down in front of Harry.

"Thanks." Harry smiled awkwardly before reaching to pour himself a bowl.

"Your Daddy and I will be in the next room over, alright?" Bobby told him gruffly.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. He was far more occupied in filling his suddenly ravenous stomach. In fact, he was so occupied he didn't even think to care that they were once again treating him like some snot nosed kid.

* * *

 **A/N: Let me know what you guys thought in a review!**


	7. Desperately Dreaming

**A/N: It's a long weekend, I'm a twenty year old college student who has no shifts for the entire three days... Anyone see where this is going? Pray for me come Tuesday because I may not survive the accumulated hangover...**

 **No final edit done due to a lack of sobriety. I'll check back in on tuesday and have another look, so until then!**

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Ten minutes later, Harry pushed back from the table having had his fill. The cereal had been somewhat stale but Harry had eaten far worse in the tender care of his relatives. Automatically, Harry moved his dishes to the sink where he proceeded to wash them and all the other dirty dishes. Once he was done, Harry was left to wonder what to do.

He had no interest in interrupting John and Bobby. The last thing Harry wanted was another awkward conversation with his father. The man had already made it perfectly clear he intended to dump Harry off on Bobby. And although, so far, Bobby seemed like a good man, Harry wasn't sure he wanted to stick around.

With a heavy sigh, Harry picked up his backpack and headed for the front door. His ankle was still too painful to put much weight on but Harry was able to limp himself quietly out. He was standing on the front porch wondering if he shouldn't just take this opportunity to leave, when his hand was suddenly attacked by something slimy. Turning so quickly he almost over balanced, Harry came face to face with a dog. A dog which was of a similar size to Hagrid's dog, Fang.

"Hello," Harry greeted softly. He patted the great beast of a dog for several minutes. The dog let out a grumbling groan and pushed its large head further into Harry's palm. After a short while, the black and tan dog trotted over to where a dog bed lay, discretely tucked to the side on the porch. The dog looked pitifully back at Harry until the boy limped his way over. After only a short hesitation, Harry lowered himself to sit on the bed beside the dog.

"What's your name, huh?" Harry wondered as he reached for the collar and the dog's neck. A plain, silver, circular tag declared the dog was 'Rumsfeld'. "Rumsfeld, that's your name?" Harry asked. He smiled as the dog gave a rumbling bark. "Guess so."

He wasn't sure exactly how long he stayed sitting there patting his new friend, but it must have been long enough for the pain killer Bobby had given him to truly start taking effect. Harry's limbs grew heavy even as the aching throb that had constantly permeated his body over the last few days faded to be replaced by a gentle tingling. Despite having slept for an undetermined amount of time on the drive here, Harry felt his eyelids begin to droop.

His head fell back against the side of the house with a gentle thump. Harry was already asleep before he had the chance to register the small pain the action brought.

For the first time in several days, Harry dreamt.

 _His accursed mind spun with flashes of images that made very little sense and were almost immediately forgotten. And then, as they always did now a days, his dreams took him back to_ _ **that**_ _night._

 _Harry stood beside Sirius on the raised platform. He'd just watched his Godfather send Malfoy Senior flying through the air, ending the duel between them. Harry had been turning to share a grin with Sirius._

 _"_ _ **Avada Kedavra**_ _!" A feminine voice cried, one Harry recognised as belonging to Bellatrix Lestrange. Harry could hear her clearly even over the din of the others fighting around him._

 _He could only watch as his Godfather's profile was lit up in the sickly glow of the green curse that hit him. Sirius stumbled back. His wide grey eyes were staring straight at Harry even as the life faded from them. Sirius tipped backwards slowly,_ _ **so achingly slowly**_ _, into the veil._

 _Harry's feet took him stumbling forward a step. He was sure that any moment Sirius would fall through the other side of the arch. He was so sure. Even when his body didn't appear, Harry had been certain he needed only to pull the veil back to find his Godfather._

 _Sirius always did love jokes, but, really, now was no time to be hiding. Harry would be sure to tell him so when he found him._

 _Strong arms wrapped themselves around Harry and stopped him from moving forward. A voice was whispering in his ear, telling him Sirius was_ _ **gone**_ _. But he couldn't be gone. He was just behind the veil. Harry needed only to pull it back and there Sirius would be! Why couldn't they understand? Sirius couldn't be gone! He wouldn't have left Harry._ _ **He**_ _ **wouldn't**_ _._

"HARRY!" A gruff voice shouted.

Harry's eyes flew open. And there were still hands holding him, grasping his upper arms too tightly. Harry struggled desperately in the grasp.

He needed to-

He had to-

"SIRIUS!" Harry bellowed. " ** _SIRIUS_**!" Harry screamed, and he couldn't stop. Not when he could still save him. Because his Godfather couldn't be gone. He couldn't.

But Harry was slowly muddling through the desperation of his dream. And with his return to the land of the conscious, he realised with an awful sinking feeling, that Sirius _was_ gone. He was gone and it was Harry's fault. _It was all his fault_.

The teen wasn't aware his screams had turned into choked off sobs. He was pulled tight against a broad chest, a hand burying itself in his hair. Harry hid his face into the chest of whoever was holding him as tears spilled from his eyes.

"My fault. All my fault." Harry whimpered pathetically.

 _Sirius_.


	8. Dad Dilema

**A/N: Hi Guys! So as usual, a big thank you to all who reviewed! I noticed that a lot of you guys are asking for longer chapters, and fair enough. So I put the question to you, a) Longer chapters, less frequent updates.**  
 **or**  
 **b) Chapter size varies, more frequent updates (eg what I've been doing)**

 **The fact is I can't update as regularly if I'm writing the longer chapters you guys seem to want. So, in saying that, please let me know in a review which you'd prefer. I'll tally up the votes by the time the next update comes around (probably next Thursday) and then we'll see what happens.**  
 **Thanks!**

* * *

John Winchester had followed behind Bobby Singer as the two men left the teen to his breakfast. They moved themselves into the study next door.

John headed straight for the lumpy sofa shoved in the corner, while Bobby paused to slide the door to the study shut. John brought his hand up to cover his weary eyes as he leant back against the cushions. Driving through the night had been the only way to get them to safety but now the eldest Winchester could feel exhaustion pulling at him. With energy that was pure stubbornness, John fought the tempting call of sleep back.

"He's a good kid, John." Bobby's voice sounded. "Foolish and bull-headed like his daddy, but a good kid."

John let out a snort. He sat forward, moving his hand from his face and putting both his arms to lean against his knees.

"You'll need to be careful, though." Bobby continued. "That boy ain't like Dean or Sam. He's not going to know or respect you like a boy should his father, and you expecting him to is just gonna bring trouble." Bobby mused almost as if thinking aloud.

John turned a sour look on one of the few friends he had left in this world. He and Bobby had never seen eye to eye when it came to John's boys. There was always the possibility of an argument breaking out between them over it. But truth was, John had come to rely on the other man's no-nonsense manner. It had helped pull him back from the edge more than once.

"I _know_ that." John told the other man grudgingly. "I just-," He trailed off and ran a hand through his hair. "You should've seen him, Bobby. He's covered head to toe in bruises and he didn't say a damn thing. If that had been Sam or Dean at that age, I'd have listened to the bitchin' the whole way here." John sighed.

He could see Bobby leaning against his desk, arms crossed as the man gazed steadily at him. But John couldn't meet his eye. Instead, the Winchester patriarch stared at the wall of books facing him.

"It's not just that, either." John hesitantly admitted. "He's been in the country less than two weeks and already he's been hunted by a vamp and attacked by a demon."

"You Winchester's have made plenty of enemies. Some of 'em powerful." Bobby conceded. "Not surprising they'd be looking for some kind of revenge."

"Exactly. Only the kid doesn't know anything about this life, or how to protect himself." Even as he spoke, John's mind flashed back to the bus terminal. He'd heard the shotgun go off, rock salt rounds flinging the demon away from him. And when he'd turned, John had caught sight of the boy, _his boy_ , on one knee with the shotgun in his hands and a _fierce_ look in his eyes.

"So what are you going to do?" Bobby asked, bringing John's attention back to the conversation at hand.

But John didn't have an easy answer to give.

What was he going to do?

He shook his head as his eyes travelled down to gaze at his clasped hands.

"You could send him back where he came from." Bobby suggested. "Someone's got to be missing the kid by now." John could tell from his friends tone that Bobby wasn't inclined to think that was the best option. And despite himself, John couldn't help but agree.

He was shaking his head even before he'd decided on what to say. "I asked him about his family. His mom died when he was young, and he was left with an aunt and uncle. I didn't get the impression it was a happy arrangement." John grunted.

"No. Neither did I." Bobby agreed with a sigh.

John closed his eyes to fight off the dread and anger that roiled in his gut. There had been all kinds of warning signs coming off the kid over the last few days, but John had tried to ignore them for the most part. But if Bobby was seeing them too…

Being a hunter meant seeing the nastier side of life. Both supernatural nasty and plain old human nasty. It was an unfortunate part of the job but it meant John and Bobby had both seen their fair share of victims of abuse. And Harry practically screamed it. The kid's stubbornness aside, everything about him seemed to say 'treat with kid gloves'.

 _'_ _Well, almost every part of him,'_ John thought as his mind once again flashed back to that fierce look in the boy's eyes.

John moved his hand to scrub at his sore eyes.

"I can't send him back if-," John couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence. From the way Bobby frowned it was clear he'd heard the unspoken part anyway.

There was no way John could send the kid back if it was to an abusive home.

"So don't." Bobby said simply, shrugging his shoulders.

John glanced to his friend for the first time. He wondered if it could ever be that easy an answer.

"He's not safe here." John reminded the other man.

"If we're right, he ain't safe there either." And John had no response to that.

He let himself fall back against the cushions once again. His gaze returned to staring pensively at the wall of books in front of him.

"He can't travel with me. I'm too close to the yellow eyed demon." John said, breaking the silence that had fallen over the two friends for the last several minutes.

"Just ask, Winchester." Bobby grunted. John could practically hear the other man's eyes rolling.

"Would you let him stay here?" John asked, turning to face Bobby. "I'm close to killing the sonofa bitch that killed my Mary, I know I am. And when I have, I'll come back." John promised solemnly.

"And then what? You going to raise another hunter?" Bobby demanded sourly.

John considered his next words very carefully even as he swallowed his initial urge to snap back at the man. They were treading perilously close to the old argument between them. If he said the wrong thing, John may ruin any chance his youngest son had.

"I'll teach him how to protect himself." John finally decided on.

"That all?" Bobby's eyebrows were raised and he was staring at John intensely. He was watching for any lies the older Winchester might try pass as truths.

Under that scrutinising gaze, John decided to be as honest as he could be. "I don't yet. The cats already out of the bag, the kid knows there are ugly, evil things in our world." John said. "I'll give him the choice and I'll help him, no matter what he decides."

John held his friends gaze for several long seconds before Bobby grudgingly nodded his head in acceptance.

"Alright. I suppose I can't ask for much better than that." Bobby decided. "I'll look after the boy, but you better make sure you get your ass back quick. Lord knows you've already missed enough of that boy's life."

John bristled at that. He opened his mouth to send back a snappish retort, when they were interrupted by a muffled yell.

John and Bobby were both on their feet and heading in the direction the sound had come from. A quick glance in the kitchen on the way past showed it empty of any teenagers. Bobby picked up one of the shotguns propped up beside his front door before the two men were bursting out onto the porch.

Immediately, John's eyes went to the teenager sitting propped up against the house. Distressed noises were escaping from the clearly sleeping boy. He was thrashing slightly, tears staining his cheeks from where they'd leaked out of closed eyelids.

"Rumsfeld!" Bobby called, trying to gain the dogs attention. The black and tan dog was whining agitatedly, sniffing and poking at Harry with its nose. As Bobby stepped forward to pull the dog away, John dropped onto his knees beside the teen.

"Harry?" He called, hesitating with his hands raised in the air.

Harry didn't seem to hear him. He was still deeply asleep, still thrashing and letting out the worst kind of noise.

John clasped the teen by his arms and gave the boy a light shake. "Harry!" He called again. And then louder when that still garnered no response.

"One hell of a nightmare." Bobby commented from somewhere behind the two.

John nodded his head in agreement even as he gave the teen a harder shake. "HARRY!" He shouted.

The teen sprung awake, his struggling increasing even as his bright green eyes looked around unseeingly. John was forced to clamp his hands tighter to the boy's arms in an attempt to stop him from hurting himself.

"Harry!" John called but the boy didn't seem to hear him.

"SIRIUS!" Harry yelled hoarsely. " ** _SIRIUS_**!" He screamed. A wordless scream followed as the boy desperately struggled to free himself.

John held on tightly and allowed a mantra of reassuring words to flow from his lips. Words he was sure Harry wasn't hearing. Eventually the kid's screams tapered off into choked sobbing. His face twisting with grief that seemed far beyond his age.

John acted on instinct. He pulled the kid tight to his chest, his hand going into the unruly black hair and his other hand rubbing the kids back up and down. "It's alright, you're alright. Shush. I've got you. I've got you, son." John murmured even as he could hear the broken sounds of the teenager sobbing into his chest.

" _My fault. All my fault_." The kid repeated in a hoarse whimper, over and over. In response, John could do nothing more than hold him tighter. They stayed like that until eventually the kids sobbing petered off entirely, and the hand that had been clutching tightly to the back of John's shirt eased off.

"Let's get him inside." Bobby suggested gruffly from where he'd stood as a silent sentry behind them.

John nodded his head in agreement. He stood to his feet, pulling a rather pliant Harry with him. The teen was awake but his expression was closed off and vacant. He followed after John when the older man led him inside but there was something disturbingly lacking in his movements. The boy's face was blank as John helped lower him down to the sofa the older man had just recently vacated.

"Is he in shock?" John asked, turning to look over at Bobby. The other man had followed close behind Harry in case they needed help getting him inside.

"I'm not sure." Bobby admitted with a frown. "How's his pulse?"

John stepped forward, crouching down to place two of his fingers against Harry's neck. The kid didn't react to the touch. His eyes were staring, unfocused and fogged, straight ahead.

"Seems normal." John muttered. His hand moved of its own accord to rub up along the side of the teen's head and into his hair.

"Best we can do for him is keep him warm and safe. He'll come round when he's ready." Bobby announced before he turned to head back outside and settle the still agitated Rumsfeld.

John didn't turn to see his friend leave. Instead he focused on grabbing the old patched blanket thrown over the back of the sofa, and wrapping it around Harry. John's hand fond itself back in the kid's hair as he stroked the messy locks comfortingly.

"Alright," He murmured before standing and taking a seat next to the kid. " _Alright._ "

* * *

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